Here's to Many More
by Elfpen
Summary: SPOILERS! About a year following the events of Age of Ultron, the Avengers celebrate two birthdays in two very different ways. Vision is a year old, Wanda struggles with her loss. Vision/Wanda, normal fluff and angsty fluff. Oneshot.


**A/N:** This was written for a friend's prompt over on tumblr, but it ended up pretty long so I thought I'd post it as a oneshot.

* * *

"I don't understand," Said Vision, looking down at the candle-bearing cupcake and wrapped packages lying on the table.

"It's your birthday!" Clint smiled at him. "One year old, to the day," He gave him a noogie, regretted it, and rubbed at his sore knuckles.

"Oh," Said Vision, still a bit perplexed. He was aware that humans celebrated the anniversary of each others' births, but he was unaware that his teammates would see _his_ as worth celebrating. "I had lost track of the day," which was actually true.

"They grow up so fast," Natasha reminisced to Steve, who nodded in mock somberness.

"Gonna be walking and talking, soon," The Captain shook his head fondly.

"Avengers, squish," Tony shoved himself in front of Vision and held out his phone. The other avengers smashed into the frame with various faces and smiles, "You too, birthday boy," Tony said, and Vision seemed to snap out of his thoughts, flashing a smile. (Everyone else noticed but said nothing when the sight made Wanda smile a bit wider, too). Tony took a few selfies and the group dissolved. While Sam quietly teased Wanda and Wanda smacked him away, Tony was tapping at his screen. "Hashtag one year old, hashtag baby of the fam, hashtag ain't no party like a 'venger's party, hashtag the viz." He put his phone away. "Congratulations, you are now instagram famous. My birthday gift to you," He said, walking back behind Vision. "Just kidding, this is," he tossed a box out onto the table.

"Well, are you going to blow out the candle, or do you need some help?" Rhodey asked. Vision gave him a small smile.

"Oh, of course, I'm sorry," and so he blew. The candle smoked and everyone clapped and cheered - Wanda even gave him a kiss on the cheek (Sam catcalled, and Wanda punched him). After they calmed down, Vision began opening his presents. There was a poetry anthology from Steve, and a new phone from Rhodes because he'd lost the one Tony gave him. Tony gave him new headphones, and Bruce got him tickets to the opera. Pepper gave him a photo album and a small photo printer, Sam gave him a set of mix tapes, and Natasha gave him a Sovokian-English dictionary with a wink. Finally, it came to Wanda's present. It was a food item of some kind, but he did not recognize the foreign words on the foil wrapping.

"It's chocolate," she explained with a grin, "one of my favorites from Sovokia, I had them all the time when I was little."

"He doesn't need to eat, I thought?" Rhodes whispered in an aside to Tony. Wanda frowned at him.

"He can still _taste_ , he's not a _robot_. You'll love it, Vihz, I promise." The gesture touched him, and he grinned at her.

"Thank you, miss Maximoff, I look forward to tasting it." He looked around at the other gifts, and looked at the others. "You all overwhelm me, I don't know what to say. Thank you," he said, and meant it more than any of them knew.

"Oh, you big softie," teased Tony. "Now, let's make this a _real_ party. Who wants to play bartender? First volunteer's drinks are on me!"

As the others laughed and flocked away to Tony's lounge, Vision stood and caught Wanda's hand. "Thank you," he said again, and she smiled graciously.

"Happy first birthday, Vihz," She gave his hand a squeeze. "The first of many, I hope."

* * *

It was only a few weeks later that there was another birthday in the Avenger's tower. There was no celebration.

Sam had actually bought balloons and begun planning a surprise party, but then Tony pulled him aside and harshly reminded him that there was a missing member of this birthday, and that it would really be better if no one mentioned it at all.

Wanda Maximoff was turning twenty-three today, and her brother was not.

Her twenty-second birthday had passed in the blur of becoming an avenger, overshadowed by the post-Ultron events to the point that she'd forgotten about it entirely, and still miss-wrote her age on paperwork.

But now, it was peacetime, and she new full well what day it was. Now, she found herself counting out her day in twelve minute increments, waiting for Pietro to appear out of nowhere and punch her arm. "You didn't see that coming!" he'd shout in triumph, and exclaim that he was officially a year older than she was. She waited for his mocking and gloating in each twelve minutes of her day, waiting for the traditional Maximoff birthday tickling, waited for the alarms he'd set, the chocolate he'd buy, the pride in his voice when they celebrated one more year of keeping each other safe.

She'd been the one to break their record.

Tony had made Sam hide the balloons and cake he'd bought, and no one in the tower questioned, looked, or even thoughtabout mentioning it when Wanda walked quickly through the lounge with red eyes and raw cheeks, sniffing as she fled into the hallway and her bedroom. Well, almost no one.

"Miss Maximoff, are you quite alright?" Asked Vision, looking up from his book. She stormed past without a word, and he watched her go with a deepening frown.

"Let it go, Viz," said Natasha, once Wanda was gone. He turned to her with a hurt look.

"She is in distress. Is something wrong?"

"It's her birthday," Nat explained. Vision blinked. Didn't humans _celebrate_ these things? Just a few weeks ago… She seemed to read his thoughts.

"Wanda's a twin, Vision," Natasha's voice was quiet. "Well, she _was,_ before…" She shrugged. "Just leave her be."

Vision turned back to look down the hall where Wanda had fled, and thought back to all the times when she had given him an ear of understanding when no one else thought he needed it, when she recognized the humanity in him that so many others did not see. Ignoring Natasha, he rose and went to her door - but not before he stopped by his own room and retrieved a token.

* * *

"Wanda?" He asked quietly. He rarely called her that, unless they were alone. She was curled up behind the edge of her bed, but he could hear her sniffling.

"What?" She said harshly. Her room was a mess, flickers of red magic dotting the air, pulsing with her still calming, erratic sobs. He ignored them and went around to where she sat, lowering himself to a spot beside her. She blew her nose and did not look at him, but he looked at her.

"I'm sorry," he said eventually.

"I don't want it," she growled angrily.

"Want what?"

"A birthday. A birth. Without him. I don't…" Her lip quivered. "It's so wrong to grow older without him. He was the older one, the one who always looked after… and with our parents, and now _him,_ I don't… He was…" She glared at nothing, and fought her quivering chin into submission. "Pietro was all I had. And I can't even celebrate my birthday without him." She shook her head and blew her nose again, trying desperately not to cry.

Vision lowered his hand gently over hers, and she looked at it, part of her wishing very much that he would leave, but part of her grateful that he had the guts to stay.

"You are celebrating both of your birthdays," he said.

"I'm _not_ ," Wanda spat bitterly, throwing her tissues away violently. "Pietro is _dead,_ he has no more birthdays left."

Vision shook his head, looking at Wanda like she were a window into a galaxy. "No, not like that. But you carry it with you."

"What?" Wanda looked at him, tired and angry and not wanting to play patience with her naive companion. Vision reached up to touch her face, and Wanda's eyes were drawn to the mind stone on his head. He was so gentle and simple sometimes, she forgot how profoundly powerful he was.

"You see him still. You saw more of him than anyone on earth, and you carry his life in here with you," he brushed her forehead. The thought made her cry again, tears tracking down her face in that unavoidable, ugly way that she hated. She closed her eyes to not think about it, but Vision seemed to not notice or care. He moved to sit nearer to her, and took her face in both hands. "You carry so many minds with you in here - Pietro's, the avengers', _mine."_ She glanced up at him at that. "You take a piece of every life you see and carry it on your shoulders, keep them alive in their purest way. You carry so much of the world with you, Wanda Maximoff," he marveled, seeing beyond her face and into the mind that had first touched his, "it is a marvel we do not all celebrate our birthdays with yours. But Pietro was there before all others." His eyes refocused, and he locked eyes with her, their foreheads not quite touching. "Your birthday is still his as well, Wanda. Don't mourn him without also duly celebrating him."

She broke then, her quivering chin growing too tired, his hands on her face too much for her resolve. She'd never cried in front of Vision before, but now she bawled. Usually so shakable by human behavior, he now reacted easily, as if he'd been waiting for it. He moved his hands from her face to her shoulders and drew her to him.

She closed her eyes, wrapped her arms around his neck and hoped he wouldn't mind if she pretended that he were Pietro. Pretend she could feel hair on his head, pretend his cool metallic shoulders were a smooth running shirt, pretend that by pinning his wide, protective arms to his sides she was keeping her twin from playful punches. It was pretend, but she carried it with her, and it was real, if just for a few minutes.

She cried, and cried, and cried. Eventually, when she'd spent her tears and used up the tissues, she closed her eyes against Vision's chest and found Pietro's mind within her own – the memories of this day across years, her eye rolls and his bragging, the smiles and the rainy days when they'd hidden under awnings with stolen cake candles, holding hands across their HYDRA cages, the tallied countdowns on padded walls.

" _Všetko najepšie k narodeninám,_ Pietro," she whispered against the running shirt that shone vibranium red.

" _Všetko najepšie k narodeninám,_ Wanda," Vision replied, for once in a perfect accent. She hiccuped a sob against him, wondering how hurt and relief could appear together so thick in her throat.

The rustle of tin foil surprised her. She opened her eyes and sniffed one last time, frowning at where Vision's hands were occupied with a wrapper.

"I have been looking forward to trying this, but I thought I would enjoy it far more with your help," He said, unwrapping the Sovokian chocolate she'd given him just weeks ago. "Taste is at the root of memories, you know, but I have so few yet, I thought you might help to make this one meaningful for me." He broke off a piece for her and for him. She almost wanted to say no, to tell him that it was his, that it wouldn't be a good memory, but she couldn't find the words around her choked throat so she took it with a forced smile.

He lifted his share as if in a toast. "To Pietro," he said, and she held hers quietly a moment before lifting it up.

"To Pietro."

They ate it somberly, but soon they were laughing, because Vision was actually quite shocked at the rich flavor, and made uncharacteristic faces because of it. They spend a solid fifteen minutes talking about the difference in quality between American and European chocolate. Vision made her laugh, and she taught him a Sovokian birthday song, and they sung it quietly for Pietro and herself. Then he lifted her to her feet and gave her the wrapper from their chocolate. She smiled at it, knowing that from now on, she would think of both Pietro and Vision when she tasted it. He knew it too, and leaned in to kiss her cheek.

"Happy Birthday, Miss Maximoff, and here's to many more."


End file.
